


Chaos in the wildlands

by binaryV2



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Devil May Cry, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, The world is in chaos, a demon in the human world, a prequel, lots of demons in the human world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binaryV2/pseuds/binaryV2
Summary: A prequel fic set one hundred and sixty years before a D&D campaign, a Demon named Church walks among the humans after the fall of the world's gods. With the world in chaos, and rogue deities and devils reaping the rewards of fallen angels and gods, Church stands amidst a world in chaos, yet to quell.





	Chaos in the wildlands

If my family should find this recount years after I have passed, please know that I watch you from the heavens with pride. If an archivist should find this letter, store it somewhere so the children of tomorrow know what I have witnessed. My name is Easton, and my town resides in Marrow Valley. We're a simple farming town, we reside on the edges near a fallen temple. It was rich, once belonging to a god of storms and thunder. We worshipped him, prayed for rain and clear skies. Often times, he would grant those requests. Over the years, my father's fathers told tales of how he would come out of the temple, bless the crops, the skies, the trees, the sun, the clouds. He would bring good fortune upon our town and our crops. 

The last time the eyes of my family saw him was during the days of my great grandfather, Joachim. When my grandfather was young, he recalled a series of months where the god had locked himself within the temple. For seven months, storms rained down upon not just the town, but the whole world. I have heard travelers talk about these months as the months of calamity. Some have called it the Convergence. All around the world, different nations and their gods experienced calamity and hardship. At the end of all things, there was only silence. I have never once seen the god bless the crops. We have prayed, but nothing has come of it.

The temple was collapsed, and when our village would fall upon hard times, some would wrestle with the idea of plundering the temple and taking what was left of the god's riches... but the women of our town convinced the men not to incur the god's wrath. While some thought they were dead, the women clung to the idea that they may just be alive, and they wished not to incur wrath that may befall their children and their children's children. So we continued, suffering some days and prospering during other seasons.

It is currently the last night of the harvest moon, our busiest season. We planned to have a festival, celebrating the hardships we had endured during the years. However, on the night of the festival... we learned finally the status of our diety. The lord we had debated on the life or death of, the one whose temple we had left standing should they return to bless our crops. We learned of their fate when a dragon the size of the mountain range and the valley came from the clouds. It's crimson breath washing our villages and homes in flame, our crops and festival turned to cinder. 

We sent our women and our children away at the sight of Dragonfire. Our men took up arms, planning to overwhelm the dragon and defend our village enough to recover. When we marched up to the dragon, we found more than just the crimson fire upon our village. Orcs, goblins, imps, demons, all the foul creatures of the night overtook the men. I regret to write that I ran with barely my life intact, but if you had seen the blood that the crops were painted with, and the burning orange eyes that watched me run... I think that you would have run as well. The dragon did not speak a word of where I had run, as it's alliance was toward it and only it. It hoarded itself in the temple for the gold and treasure... and what I saw next was something I sobbed at, quietly... for I did not wish to lose my life. 

Our village, torn apart and destroyed. Burning embers wracking the wood and crops with smoke and flames. The witches and goblins tore through our belongings, while the orcs feasted on the bones of my neighbors who had bravely taken up arms and stood against the dragon. I watched for five days, never sleeping for fear I might be found. I was lost amidst the chaos and only wished my family had escaped with their life. On the final night of the fifth day, I saw something that had made me think someone had come to my aid. A cloaked figure marched through the chaos and fire, and the monsters of the night seemed to look upon him all at once. Not with awe, but disgust. I swear to you, those stumbling upon my record that this figure looked as human as someone like me, and those who had fallen before me. 

When the goblins advanced upon him, his cloak blew open with a furious might. Magical runes surrounded him, blades of vicious light blew out from behind his cloak. The goblins were impaled with energy that looked unfocused and chaotic. When the demons advanced upon him, and he fought back, it looked unfocused. There was a part of him that was missing and the way he fought looked incomplete. The goblins and orcs tore at his cloak, and the man fought with a fire in him that burned hotter than the chaos. The witches were thrown from the air with bursts of magical energy, the goblins were thrown into the stone where their heads cracked as eggs smashed against a bowl. The orcs were beaten, slaughtered as if cattle marched to the line. 

And when it was over, I swear to you I had enough time to escape. I was enthralled though, it looked as if stories from the paladin books came to life before me, although there was something much grimmer about these events. When I saw the cloaked figure's eyes, they were blood-red, the glow underneath a pale blue-moonlight. Their magic a deep blue that rippled across the air, pushing the flames away. When the figure had laid waste to those who had stood in his way... He simply moved along. He turned up to the stairs leading to the temple where the dragon slept. If I had not been stricken by fear, I would have asked the cloaked man if he truly intended on fighting the dragon. Did he plan to reason with it? Did he plan to kill it? All for that gold? I had not the stomach to ask, and when I heard the growls of more goblins, and the howls of orcs and cackles of witches... I took what I had and ran. Into the night I ran, non-stop. I was hungry, tired, my feat week and my skin aching... but I ran as far, fear powering me for days. 

When I found my wife, my children, they tell me I was petrified to the core for a month... unable to leave the confines of the room we stayed at. I could only shiver and scream. It has taken me eight months to the day to write this letter. I plan to send it to the Church, in hopes that they send a legion of paladins into the night to see the true form of the cloaked man. I am grateful that he saved my life, whether he knew it or not, but I fear what he may awaken in the cave should he come out with his bearings. He did not seem a man seeking riches and glory... he seemed a man seeking something particular.

He was not after the dragon, he sought whatever was beyond the sleeping dragon as if it was an obstacle. I ask that the paladin unity send their finest men to confront what comes out... as I have described him as looking like a human, looking like a figure of man's world...

but he seemed a creature of the night, all the same as the ones he killed without a second thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is from the perspective of someone retelling events.


End file.
